


a citizen, a mother, a first lady

by Achos_Laazov



Category: Designated Survivor (TV)
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 03:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10585173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achos_Laazov/pseuds/Achos_Laazov
Summary: You've discovered that when you are married to the President, you don't really get to make that distinction





	

"Does it ever weird you out," Leo asks, "that you and Dad are, like, the President and First Lady?"

You glance towards Leo and slowly smile.

 

 _What is happening to us?_ is your only thought as the District of Columbia's judge hands you a random Bible brought in, seemingly from nowhere. You reach for it and hold it at Tom's side while he swears to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States to the best of his ability. _So help the both of us, God. We'll need it._

You follow some staffers to the residential area of the United States' most famous house. You're introduced to your new home in a bizarre, hurried manner. No one seems to know the proper protocol for showing the wife of the President - _that's you?_ \- around the mansion in middle of a governmental crisis of this magnitude.

Seth is the first to call you _that_ , before you really know him. In a sitting room, after Tom is pulled away to smooth over a diplomatic crisis, and the first refusal to call you Alex shocks you. You feel you're the same person as yesterday, but the country has changed. Your status has changed. Very suddenly.

And then _your son_ is not where he's supposed to be, and you've got the  _Secret Service_ looking for him and  _is this real_? Is that really _Tom_ that when you tell him  _I'm always by your side,_ you follow up with _Mr. President_?

You are a target, your family, and  _your kids_ are targets, to any grudge-holder with guts; and you're rushing into an armored vehicle, wearing a bulletproof vest, and surrounded by guards tackling a citizen who may or may not have been concealing a weapon.  _How is this our life now_ _,_ and you're trying to figure that out yourself when you arrive back at the White House and have to explain it to your daughter.

It's the Governors' Dinner, your first event as a the official hostess at the House, and a sniper is shooting at the windows during Tom's speech.  _Is that supposed to happen here_ _?_ \- and the governors are sent to safe rooms and you and -  _the President_ \- Tom - your  _husband_ \- are hurried to an underground bunker. News soon comes that Mike - a close friend - is shot. On your behalf. Protecting your family; and you're upset and nervous and worried for him but relieved for yourself at the same time and  _this is all so confusing_.  _Can life slow down for one minute_?

But of course, it can't, and you're tangled up with the conspiracies that put you in this house; that's pulling Tom and your further apart than you've been since you met and you hate it, hate yourself for letting the Presidency come between you and your relationship, your marriage. You put on a brave face to meet Peter and Beth for dinner; by Tom's side, as always. Beth is friendly, and you're looking forward to working with her on First - _wait that's you_ - and Second Lady initiatives if Peter is confirmed.

Which he is.

And then you're staring, terrified, at Tom's chest hovering above you - there's a crimson stain on his white shirt that's spreading and getting bigger and then he collapses and your ears are filled with a weird buzzing static as you call for help. The President -  _no your husband_ \- has been shot.

Your VIP status - _you? VIPs?_ - bypasses the emergency room and Tom's wheeled directly into Operating Room One, strapped to a backboard tightly enough that he can't move. You can feel his terror and confusion and his momentary sense of relief when the doctor declares his injuries noncritical. You let Emily and Seth and Aaron into the room and take a minute to sit in the waiting area, surrounded by Secret Service agents, to update Leo and just  _breathe_.

It's the President's job to worry about the country's economy two minutes into his longest waking moment after a near-fatal surgery. It's the job of the First Lady -  _oh right that's you_ \- to help him out of bed to reassure the public, so you help Tom out of bed against your better judgement. You feel that he's in pain and unsteady on his feet and you help him shuffle over to the window. Always by his side.

You can see how much it  _hurts_ him to send you and the children to Camp David. He needs your family to bolster his inner strength, to fight the good fight in the media circus you live in, but you hate the way that Penny and Leo are trailed by security shadows everywhere and all the time. It's hard to know which to put first; being a wife and mom, or the First Lady, the President's wife. You feel like two separate people and  _is this what Superman feels like, putting on a mask half of his life_?

 

You give your son a side hug.

"Yes," you tell him. "Every day."  _He doesn't know the half of it_ , you think.


End file.
